To guard against that eventuality, Tanigawa had placed a gallon can of kerosene in the corner, out of sight, although now and then he caught a whiff of the strong-smelling flammable liquid. When the time came, he planned to splash the kerosene over everything and set it on fire. He would not let the enemy enjoy the spoils of war. As for the brandy, he would enjoy a glass and then add the alcohol to fuel the flames.
He sighed, his momentary bitterness ebbing as he thought of all the tasks that still needed to be done, for he was a man who welcomed action. He supposed that he had always known that this day would come, but the actuality of the looming conflict now sank in. Tanigawa was no coward. He would fight until the end and die like a true samurai.
He was reassured by the fact that his men were ready. Once again, he ran through a mental checklist of their defenses. Under the direction of himself and Sergeant Inaba, his men had turned the university campus into a fortress, this main building becoming a bunker. Machine guns had been set up on the surrounding streets, the positions well protected by sandbags, to give his men commanding fields of fire down all the approaches to the main building. Barbed wire was strung across the approaches to funnel the enemy into streets covered by the machine guns. Tanigawa had put a great deal of thought and attention into these defenses. They would be able to hold out for a long time against infantry.
However, at this late stage of the game, his one nagging worry concerned the American tanks. Machine guns would be no use against their armored sides. Meanwhile, the Sherman tanks could take their time blasting away at his own positions, softening them. Tanigawa had no heavy weapons at this disposal, aside from a few mortars. There was little he could do against tanks. However, he had issued orders to prepare a supply of satchel charges that his men could use as a last-ditch defense against any tanks, hurling themselves into the tracks and setting off a blast, trading their lives to disable the tanks. In Tanigawa’s mind, it seemed like a fair exchange.
But best of all, his ultimate weapon would be the prisoners that he held. The Americans would be loath to see these people killed, considering that many of those held at the university were their fellow Americans who had lived in Manila. When the time came, Tanigawa planned to use the prisoners to his advantage. If some died in the process, then so be it.
He called for Sergeant Inaba, who kept a small office just down the hall from his own. Again, he thought of how much he had come to rely on Inaba, who was ultimately a man of humble origins. In some ways this went against Tanigawa’s inclinations, but the usual chain of command had not been possible because first his lieutenant, and then his captain, had caught fevers. The lieutenant had died and the captain remained in the hospital. Inaba had also gotten sick, but he’d proved too tough for the fever. He was also utterly reliable in obeying Tanigawa’s orders. He had proved himself to be worth far more than any of Tanigawa’s officers.
“Any updates on the enemy’s movements?” Tanigawa asked his sergeant, although he had been watching the approaching Americans through his binoculars.
Sergeant Inaba replied, “Our men have not yet engaged them, sir. However, they are not more than a few blocks away at this point.” Inaba paused, emotion playing across his features. His face, normally so impassive or twisted into a scowl, literally rippled as he expressed his despair, eyes wide and mouth open, before his features hardened into anger. “I cannot believe we are in this situation. It is like a nightmare.”
“It is the situation we face, Inaba. We will fight and die as we must.”
“Have you heard from headquarters? We need reinforcements, sir. We do not have enough men.”
“We need to keep our heads, Inaba. We will fight with the men we have.”
“How long do you think we can hold them off?”
“Until the end, Inaba.”
“Keep me informed,” Tanigawa said. “That is all.”
He picked up the binoculars again and turned to the window. He had meant what he’d said to Inaba. They would fight to the end, but not necessarily in this building.
When the time came, he would share his plan with his men.
The GIs already knew what they were up against because they had faced it before when it came to fighting in the Pacific. Back home in America, readers were getting a glimpse of the Pacific War thanks to reporters like Ernie Pyle in his newspaper accounts. If he had written about Patrol Easy, it might have sounded something like this:
